


On ghostly wings

by Nemainofthewater



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Gen, Mascots, Nonsense, Owls, post episode 143, so maybe spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: Jon doesn’t learn about them until he and Basira return from Norway. Well. That isn’t entirely true. Daisy, who’s surprisingly the only one of them to actually talk to people outside of the Archives nowadays, mentioned that there was a new rumour flying around that the Institute was haunted. Unexpected cold spots, a crippling sense of loneliness, screams that echoed through the draughty rooms late at night, and the occasional glimpse of something white flashing past them before disappearing into the darkness.There are owls in the Archives. Somehow, this fixes things.





	On ghostly wings

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely didn't just write this because the symbol of the Magnus Institute is an owl. Noooo that would be silly (like this fic).

Jon doesn’t learn about them until he and Basira return from Norway. Well. That isn’t entirely true. Daisy, who’s surprisingly the only one of them to actually talk to people outside of the Archives nowadays, mentioned that there was a new rumour flying around that the Institute was haunted. Unexpected cold spots, a crippling sense of loneliness, screams that echoed through the draughty rooms late at night, and the occasional glimpse of something white flashing past them before disappearing into the darkness.

According to office gossip there are two ghosts, presumably those of Gertrude Robinson and Jurgen Leitner.

Jon doesn’t put much, if any, stock into the rumours. If nothing else, having their ghosts hanging around would actually be useful, and God forbid the Universe ever give them a break. No, it’s the effects of the Lonely combined with the overactive imaginations of anyone working past sundown.

(He doesn’t want to admit that he’s heard the screams himself, late into the night, echoing through the empty halls.)

It isn’t until he’s sitting in his office at 9pm on a Friday evening, staring at a Statement that wants to be read and trying to convince himself that he can hold out a little while longer, ten more minutes while studiously ignoring the tea that Daisy’s placed on his desk, that he realises. Or rather, that Daisy helps him to realise what’s happening.

“Have you heard about Leanne from HR,” she says, “Swore that she saw one of the ghosts last Monday. Said it was the only thing that explained the aura of crippling misery around the place. And the endless screaming.”

Jon snorts in amusement despite himself, “She evidentially hasn’t been working in HR that long,” he says, “In any case, they’re not ghosts. We’ve just got a couple of barn owls nesting in the Archives.”

Pauses. Thinks about what he just said.

“Ah.”

#  


Owls, it turns out are vicious predators who have no problem clawing people in the face. Nursing his scratched hand and glaring at the fiends, safely beyond Jon’s reach and beyond the reach of his reluctant assistants. They look smug. The arseholes.

#

“Archimedes,” Helen says. Recently she’s been hanging around the Archives more, sometimes literally in that sometimes Jon will turn a corner and she’ll just be there. A door in the ceiling where there shouldn’t be one, and Helen casually leaning out of it.

“What?”

“We should call one of them Archimedes.”

“We’re not naming them,” Jon says, “They’re wild animals who, frankly, shouldn’t even be here.”

“And then the other one can be Minerva.”

“No.” Jon says flatly, “Even if we were going to name them, which we aren’t, there is no way that I’m going to stand for her to be named after a goddess who, frankly, the Romans stole from the Greeks and rebranded. If anything, it should be Athena.”

“Athena? What a great idea for a name.”

Jon looks up from his papers and glares at Basira, who’s standing in the door to his office and grinning at him. The wariness that has characterised their interactions since he woke from his six-month coma is still there, but it’s…muted. Hidden behind the amusement in her eyes.

“I…feel like I’ve been set up,” Jon says

“Oh Archivist,” Helen says, “For someone so intelligent, you’re so…”

“Dumb?” Basira says.

Jon opens his mouth to protest. Thinks. Closes it in resignation. 

“…right,” he says, “I suppose I can’t exactly argue with that. Are we…we’re not really naming the owls are we?”

Neither Basira nor the thing that was once Helen Richardson reply. Just smile. That answers that, then.

Jon closes his eyes in weary resignation.

Well. At least owls are thematically appropriate for the Institute. 

#

The owl, Archimedes he supposes as Athena is currently rather occupied incubating their eggs, stares at him, perched on top of the bookshelf. He’s been getting braver now that Jon has resigned himself to the fact that even if he could catch and expel the pair, there would be a mutiny on his hands shortly after.

He’s sure that the live mice that Daisy and Melanie have taken to bringing in and letting loose in the Archives for Archimedes to catch haven’t hurt either.

“What are you looking at?” Jon snaps at the owl, who tilts his head to the side and lets out a short scream of derision.

“Yes, yes, everyone’s a critic, I’m well aware,” Jon says, “Although as a species facing extinction in the UK, I’d rather think that you’d be more supportive.”

Archimedes is, of course, an owl and likely doesn’t understand a word that Jon is saying. Nonetheless, he looks unimpressed.

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to debating with an owl,” Jon mutters, looking away from his judgemental gaze. Sighing, he reaches forward to pick up the next Statement when-

“Ow!”

He snatches his hand back and glares at the owl, who looks supremely unimpressed, Jon’s blood gleaming on his talons.

“What did you do that for?” he says. Archimedes screams again. Jon reaches out again, defiantly, and Archimedes…is that an eye roll? The owl spreads its wings and, thank god, takes flight, swooping out of his office.

“Hopefully I can get some work done now,” Jon says, hearing the comforting CLICK of the tape recorder turning on. He clears his throat:

“Statement of Sarah Volker-”

“Jon. It’s three in the morning. Go to bed.”

Archimedes has returned and brought a supremely unimpressed Daisy with him. Jon glares at the owl.

“Traitor,” he hisses.

#

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

Christ Peter, you have to give me more than this. I-I want to help, alright? I just, I don’t see how not giving me any information is useful-

PETER LUKAS

Martin. You know that this is the only way. In any case, I would have thought you’d be used to it by now, with Elias as your former boss.

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

_(sigh)_

I mean, Elias was a pretty terrible boss.

PETER LUKAS

He never did like to get his hands dirty. Now Martin, it’s time.

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

Fine. And you’re sure this will work?

PETER LUKAS

You don’t trust me?

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

Not even a little.

PETER LUKAS

Very wise of you. We both know that you’ll do as I ask though. Because it’s the only thing that can protect your friends.

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

…it won’t hurt, will it?

PETER LUKAS

I could tell you that, but I’d be lying. Now, roll your sleeve up and hold still.

(A grunt of pain, cut off abruptly by a menacing shriek, menacing like the ten pounds of hate have been compressed into a three pound body. The sound of falling furniture and something large and pissed off. Cries of alarm.)

MARTIN BLACKWOOD

What the fuck!

(The sound of a door slamming opening)

DAISY TONNER

What the fuck! Get away from him.

(The sound of something clattering to the floor. Static crackles)

DAISY TONNER

Coward!

(The tape clicks off)

#  


The pair have made a rather lovely nest in a quiet alcove. Or rather, it would be lovely if it didn’t appear to be formed primarily out of tape, evidentially removed and repurposed from old Statements.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jon says to Athena, “Although I do hope that we won’t need any of those tapes in the future.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I just…I just wanted to thank you and Archimedes for what you did. For Martin. It’s...I don’t know how it got this bad, but we’re fixing it. Showing him that he doesn’t have to be alone, that there’s no point in saving the world if we lose him. I-He’s the last one left. I can’t-I can’t lose anyone else.”

Athena stares at him, glassy eyes filled with more intelligence than an owl should have. Slowly, solemnly, she inclines her head. Accepting his thanks.

“Thank you,” Jon says again, “And er. I suppose welcome to Team Archives.”

#

They stand around the nest, watching carefully. All of them are there: Daisy and Basira, standing so close that their shoulder bump together with every breath, fingers entwined: Helen and Melanie, debating in fierce whispers over what they should name the chicks and whether Hedwig was thematically appropriate seeing as she was a snowy owl, and not a barn owl. And. Martin.

Forearm bandaged, covering a rather impressive wound made by Peter Lukas’ knife, hovering slightly hesitantly near them. There’s still something of the Lonely about him, but Jon ignores it and pulls him closer, revelling in the fact that Martin is Here. That for the first time in almost a year, Jon Knows that he’s safe.

They still have to figure out how to stop Extinction from rising. Determine what the Watcher’s Crown is exactly, and what Elias is planning. And there is no doubt in Jon’s mind that they hadn’t seen the last of Peter Lukas.

But for now…For now they’re all together. They’re safe.

“Look!” Martin says, grabbing Jon’s hand and tugging him closer to the nest, where tiny cracks have started to spread through one of the eggs, a small milk tooth appearing. Jon sees the back of Martin’s neck go bright red, can feel his hand loosen and start to fall away and he tightens his own grip in response, refusing to let go.

“Yes,” Jon says, watching the cracks in the egg grow and multiply, and eventually a rather ugly-looking chick poke its head out, “It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> I did quite a bit of research about barn owls for this fic, although not a lot of it made it into the actual story! At the time this is meant to take place (summer 2018) it is peak barn owl breeding season (March-August). Female barn owls have got darker brown feathers around the rim of the facial disk, and darker brown bars on their feathers: males are lighter. I suspect that when Team Archives wants to tell them apart, they just ask Jon, though.
> 
> Barn owls don't really have nests: they tend to lay their eggs on nest fragments from previous years, or failing that on pellets that they've produced while roosting, or just on any surface. I liked the idea that they used the tape from the Statements though: it kind of amuses me to think that these aren't normal owls anymore. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this nonsense!
> 
> I am on Tumblr as [Nemainofthewater ](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


End file.
